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Long and well-proportioned, this green might seem sturdy were it not for the angles that make up her frame. Faded carbon sweeps through the chrome green of her hide, leaving deeper strokes of deadly smog in its wake similar to creases and ripples brushed over her form. Her sharp muzzle leads to narrow, hooded eyes that lend her an air of perpetual displeasure, her burnt olive neckridges neat and clean cut. To the left of her spine runs a shadowy, jagged line, beginning midway along her back and running to just shy of the thinning of her tail: an old scar. Slim wingspars match joints so plain to see as to seem almost unprotected, the same smoky haze that smothers her wingsails drifting over the underside of her limbs. Only her large paws and the very tip of her tail permit any trace of light to touch her, glossy opal splashed haphazardly over both. Upon closer inspection, her right forearm is not quite straight, but crooked, as though once broken.